Three Steps Forward
by Thessilian
Summary: The two most stubborn females on the Normandy realize they are more alike than they think. A Jack & Miranda friendship fic.  Written for Skybound2's livejournal Mass Effect Ficathon.  The prompt was Mitisvenatrix's .


**Prompt:** The two most stubborn females on the Normandy realize they are more alike than they think. Jack & Miranda friendship. This is for Mitisvenatrix written for Skybound2's Mass Effect Ficathon :)

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Not like _this_. Of all the ways Miranda Lawson had thought she might _eventually_ die, slipping off a ledge during a routine mission was _not_ one of them.

Miranda scrabbles again, her slick white gloves not finding any purchase on the metal railings. Her biotics flare, blue energy pulsing from her pores, but there's nothing to do, no way her skills can help her here. Time seems to slow down as her hips slips backwards over the howling abyss below – all of the things she's not done, all of the things she'll never have chance do now; regrets whisper through her mind. Jacob, probably the only man to have ever loved _her_ and not her genetically enhanced body. Oriana, her younger sister, clone, whatever. So young and soon to be so alone. And for herself, she'd been sure she'd figure out a way to get past her genetic damage and perhaps, one day, have a child...

But not now. Not any more. Her flailing fingers loose all traction on the metal and she starts to drop. Miranda closes her eyes and draws in a deep breath. As she's faced everything in her life so far, she will face even death with nothing less than her usual composure.

**Earlier:**

It's a simple mission, a milk run by anyone's standards, so Miranda can put up with the team she's been stuck with, even if neither of them would be her first (or second, or even third) choice to back her up. The old mercenary is snoozing on her left (why he's still hanging around after the Collector station was destroyed, she has no idea, but Shepard says he's in for the duration), and the unstable human time-bomb Jack is pacing the shuttle on her right.

Not for the first time, Miranda regrets that she's not on Shepard's alpha strike team. Garrus was a no-brainer as he _never_ leaves Shepard's side, but Kasumi's inclusion came as a surprise. Miranda had expected the thief to complete her personal mission and then disappear, but somewhere along the way, the petite woman had become firm friends with the spectre, and a permanent fixture on her team. So Miranda is left having to run the backup team with the dregs.

Jack snarls, slamming a fist into a bulkhead, blue sparks crawling along her skin.

"Calm down kid," Zaeed drawls, popping open his good eye, "I'm trying to bloody nap over here."

"Fuck your nap!" Jack hits the metal again, but sits down with a sullen glare. "How fucking slow is this shuttle. I'm _bored_."

"Like I give a rat's ass," Zaeed closes his eye again.

It does feel as though they've been in the air forever, surely they must be nearly there? Miranda calls up the data on her omni tool before confirming. "We'll be landing in two minutes. Weapons check."

"Why don't you suck my dick," Jack mutters under her breath, but despite her complaint, she pulls out her pistol and starts counting the heatsinks attached to her leather strapping.

Miranda rubs between her eyes, trying to stave off what feels like the beginning of a headache. She knows that Jacob is busy sorting out the new weapons in the armoury, but if only Thane wasn't laid up in the medbay...

A rare feeling floods through her chest as she moves to the shuttle doors. Empathy. It's horrible that Thane is so sick. She knows he'd much prefer to be here, helping, than laid up barely able to breathe. Poor Kolyat, a similar age to young Oriana, and yet about to lose his only family barely a year after finding him.

"C'mon cheerleader," Jack's almost-happy voice snaps Miranda out of her reverie. "I heard there's some mercs out here that need fucking up."

Zaeed is close behind, a deep guffaw rumbling from his chest as he shoulders his assault rifle. "Kid's right. I'm itching for some action myself."

With a curt nod, Miranda seals the shuttle and leads her team forwards.

Jack has changed, Miranda realises, watching the biotic pull a mercenary out of Zaeed's way. There was a time, not too long ago in fact, that Jack would barely have noticed anyone else around her in a fight, never mind helped them. And now it's almost instinctive for the biotic to work as part of the team, helping the others without a second thought.

"Have you finished hacking that fucking door yet, cheerleader?" Jack snarls.

Not changed _that_ much then, Miranda sighs as the door slides open with a soft hiss.

Jack barges her way into the old factory before Miranda has time to stand and stop her. There's a smashing noise, and screams as a biotic shockwave ripples through the mercenaries cowering ahead, smashing their defences apart. Jack wades in without stopping, clearing out the few remaining guards with minimal effort. Miranda tries to contain her smile at just how damned _good_ Jack is at getting the job done – at least when subtlety isn't required.

"Wait a second," Miranda catches up and places a restraining hand on Jack's shoulder, nodding with her head to one remaining conscious mercenary. "Let me try speaking to him."

"Whatever you say, _Boss_." Jack shrugs away from her touch, but the movement seems less like active dislike and more just her habitual disregard for authority.

Miranda crouches down by the man, inspecting his head wound with careful fingers. "Look. All we're after is the man who hired you. You, these other men, we don't care about. Tell me what's ahead and then I'll let you all go." In the background Miranda hears Jack snort, but Zaeed stays quiet, his only contribution the lowering of his assault rifle.

The mercenary blinks back at her, his lip curling in defiance.

"This is a time limited offer." Miranda stands, taking a step back and letting her biotics flicker over her hands. "And that time is counting down now. Three. Two–"

"Okay, okay." The mercenary raises a hand in submission. "I don't know his name, but he hired us a week ago. He's up there in the office with the packages. The red sand–" He points up to a shadowy balcony, high above the dusty factory floor. "End door. It's locked, but I don't have an access code."

"That's it? That's all he has left?" Miranda raises one perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"That's it, ma'am." The mercenary nods, wincing and dabbing at his head wound. "All the rest of us were out here."

"Good," Miranda allows her energy build-up to slam into him, knocking him unconscious. "Now that _he's_ sitting tight and shutting up, we'll go check out this smuggler."

"Not bad cheerleader, not bad," Jack grins at her. "Maybe you do have _some_ uses."

Zaeed laughs, a deep hacking sound. "Did you see? He couldn't take his eyes off her boobs. No wonder he told her everything."

Miranda narrows her eyes at Zaeed as Jack cackles and high fives him.

It's always three steps forward, two back with that girl, Miranda thinks, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

Miranda is convinced that they'll be back to the ship before Shepard's team has even half-completed their mission. There's been no more opposition on the way to the office, and it's taken her seconds to overload the lock.

Stepping through the doorway first, she has a split second to realise that the mercenary lied to her. There are no more _human_ guards standing with the red sand smuggler, instead there's a YMIR mech facing the doorway.

"Move!" Miranda pushes Jack away but she runs out of time to move herself before the mech's arm winds up to speed, rockets shooting out towards where Jack had been standing just a moment before.

**Present:**

And now, having saved Jack, Miranda is about to die herself. How ironic. A laugh is bubbling up in her throat when she feels a pair of small hands grab onto her wrists. Miranda opens her eyes to see Jack's skinny body braced against the remains of the railings. The mech is still spraying bullets in their direction, making Jack duck her head and snarl in anger.

"Zaeed, get on with it!" Jack yells, her voice strained as she hangs on to Miranda .

"One sec," Zaeed calls back over the sound of gunfire.

"Well hurry the fuck _up_, you old codger!" Jack shouts, her grip tightening on Miranda's handswrists. "This bitch is carrying fifteen extra pounds on her ass. Probably at least ten more on each boob."

Miranda almost laughs at the insult. Going from certain to not-quite-as-certain death has left her a little light-headed. "Just because..." She gasps as she swings slightly. "Just because I actually _have_ some 'boobs', as you call them."

Jack shakes her head with a smirk as Miranda notices that the gunfire has stopped.

Zaeed appears above them, leaning past Jack and showing a surprising strength as he hauls Miranda up onto the half-destroyed walkway, where the three of them collapse together, panting.

"The smuggler?" Miranda manages, tilting her head towards the office.

"Down," Jack looks smug as she wipes the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. "Zapped him," she waggles her fingers, blue fire crawling across them, "right before I saved your genetically _superior_ ass."

Miranda stares at her, this bald, psychotic girl, and wonders if she'd have done the same if their positions had been reversed. Some time ago, a lifetime ago it seems, Jack had sworn to kill her and Miranda had dared her to try. But now, despite everything they'd been through, or perhaps _because_ of it, Miranda knows that if Jack needed a helping hand, she'd be there to offer it.

"I appreciate it," Miranda attempts a small smile.

"I just didn't want to piss Shepard off." Jack shrugs, before responding with a small, respectful nod back, the hint of a smile touching the corners of her mouth. "Mordin ran out of his 'special' lotion and you know how cranky she gets if–"

"God yes!" Miranda interrupts with a laugh, shaking her head as she follows Zaeed's example and pushes herself to her feet. Holding out a hand to Jack, she raises one eyebrow. "Ready?"

Jack silently stares back, and for a brief moment Miranda wonders if she's misread things.

Then Jack grabs hold of her proffered hand and pulls herself up with a loud cackle. "Fuck, cheerleader. Ain't I always ready? C'mon, let's go annoy Shepard by beating them back to the Normandy."

Miranda smirks back. "Jack, I like how you think."

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**Many thanks to my beta ****Zephyr5, not only for her wonderful red pen but for helping me sound out different ways to approach this prompt.**


End file.
